


closed eyes in the dark

by redpaint



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Demon Sex, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-cest, Succubi & Incubi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpaint/pseuds/redpaint
Summary: It’s like every sex dream he has ever had, combined. It makes no sense and it doesn’t need to; all of a sudden every sense is switched to high and he thinks he’ll go out of his mind with lust, hands grabbing for every available inch of Charles’s body. The mindless urgency of it would be frightening if it didn’t feel so damngood.
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton/Charles Leclerc/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 9
Kudos: 58





	closed eyes in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mondaycore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaycore/gifts).



> warning: heed the tags! consent here is enthusiastic but uninformed, so please be aware
> 
> for monday, whose two demon!charles fics, especially [tell me what you know about dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21065945), led directly to the creation of this (whatever this is). I almost feel bad gifting you something that's just 100% weird porn, but oh well!

He’s usually a good sleeper: eight hours, uninterrupted, then up early for the gym. It’s disconcerting then, to wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding like it’s just received an electric shock. He looks around to check the time but stops cold when he spots a figure sitting down at the foot of his bed. This address is unlisted. He doubled-checked the locks before going to bed. Who the hell is that, and what do they want?

“Don’t be afraid,” the figure says, sounding a little nervous itself. French accent. Local, then. Maybe a robbery? But why would they wait here, on his bed, and why would they be moving closer, through the thick shadows, slow and sure? A robber would flash a knife or a gun and tell him to get on the ground. He should be able to run out of bed, get out of the flat and phone the police somewhere safe. But he feels glued to the mattress, only able to watch as a face materializes out of the darkness.

“Hello, Lewis,” Charles says, and he’s smiling a little, as though they’re just passing on the street or in the paddock. As though he’s not in Lewis’s room in the middle of the night, a few inches from his face. Lewis has never seen him this close before. He looks younger, more delicate. Maybe it’s the lack of the perpetual frown he wears around the paddock. He’s leaning forward, causing the bed to dip around his hands.

Lewis can’t afford to spend time appreciating the length of his eyelashes or the subtle quirk of his lips. He needs to be figuring out what the fuck is going on. “What the fuck is going on?” he asks, voice lowered even though there’s no one else in the apartment to wake up. Not that he knows of.

Charles looks poised to reply, but then something fiercer overcomes him and he leans and kisses him instead, slow and dirty, tongue flicking out to tease around his bottom lip. Lewis is stunned, but instead of pulling away he can’t seem to stop himself easing into it. His mouth opens without him even thinking about it and lets Charles lick in with barely contained enthusiasm. It’s like every sex dream he has ever had, combined. It makes no sense and it doesn’t need to; all of a sudden every sense is switched to high and he thinks he’ll go out of his mind with lust, hands grabbing for every available inch of Charles’s body. The mindless urgency of it would be frightening if it didn’t feel so damn _good_.

One of his hands lands on a patch of soft-hot skin, then another, and when he opens his eyes again he sees that Charles is shirtless, and wasn’t he wearing something before? But in the dark who knows, he might have seen wrong or Charles may have taken it off without him noticing. It’s all the better for how he can run his hands down Charles’s sides and hold him close by his slim waist. He’s never done anything with a man before, and he doesn’t care at all, it’s the last thing in his mind. And it’s not like he’s never _thought_ about this, but it had always been locked away with the rest of his jerk-off fantasies, something only to be visited when horniness overpowered self-control. Either way, Charles can feel feminine enough, can _look_ feminine enough, flashing those eyes at him, light enough that they seem to glint a little in the dark.

“God, yes,” Lewis groans as Charles starts to kiss down his neck. It’s not just for show; he wants Charles to know how good this feels, how just his presence is making every nerve in his body hypersensitive, electric to the touch. Lewis can feel Charles smile a little against his collarbone.

“You want me to keep going?” Charles asks, and it’s teasing, sure, but the sound of it also adds fuel to the fire building low in his stomach. He is suddenly more aware of just how hard he is. The arousal is enough to make his whole body ache. When did that happen? Had he woken up like that?

“Fuck yeah, please,” he says and pushes down on Charles’s head. He wouldn’t usually be so forward. He thinks of himself as a gentleman, for the most part, a considerate lover. But Charles is drinking in his neediness like it’s water, moaning a little even though he’s the one sliding down Lewis’s body and leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. Lewis goes to push down his underwear, but the angle is awkward, Charles is pressed up against him everywhere. Charles strips them off with quick, clever fingers, tosses them into the indistinct darkness of the bedroom.

No one should be this good at sucking dick. It should be illegal. Charles has given up on teasing now, swallowing him down in one effortless motion. Was the kid born without a gag reflex? God, it makes his hand tighten in Charles’s hair. Charles looks up at him, his eyes wide and his lips stretched around the base of his cock, a little red and swollen. This could be custom pornography, an image of pure hedonism that he will keep in mind forever, but if he doesn’t look away now this is going to be over disappointingly soon. He tries to relax back into the pillows, closes his eyes and breathes through the feeling of Charles swallowing around him. It makes his vision go white behind his eyelids, makes him twist the sheet in his fists.

“You like that, don’t you?” Charles asks, sounding confident enough in the answer, but it’s not the question that makes Lewis open his eyes again. It’s the fact that it sounds like Charles whispered it directly in his ear. Which he couldn’t have, since he’s moved on to gently sucking on Lewis’s balls, humming while he does. Lewis turns his head to look, and— it’s Charles. Facing him on the other side of the bed, head propped in one hand as he watches the scene. He’s smiling like he knows something Lewis doesn’t.

If this was nonsensical before, now it’s truly insane. He must be dreaming. And Christ, what a dream. The other Charles, the first one, the one who is jerking him off with sharp little motions that are driving him insane, doesn’t seem to notice or care. He just lets one ball slip out of his mouth with an obscene, wet sound and moves on to the other.

If this is just some kind of extra weird sex dream then there’s no use looking for explanations, but he can’t stop himself asking. “Where the hell did you come from? Why are there two of you?” He wishes he sounded forceful, respectable, but it all comes out in a breathless rush. Charles is rubbing his thumb over the tip of his cock, and if he meant it to be a distraction it’s a damn good one.

“Shhh, I just want you to feel good. _We_ do,” Charles replies, and it’s an unsatisfactory answer, but he can’t deny that two pairs of hands feel better than one, especially when this new, second Charles leans closer and rubs his nipples with a feather-light touch. “How was I meant to resist someone so great, so perfect all year? When you were on the top step of that podium I just wanted to get down on my knees and give you what you deserved.”

In any other circumstances, he would play off the flattery and blush at the thought of such a fantasy. But there’s something about how Charles says it, his usual self-effacement traded in for slick confidence, that lets Lewis believe it. And yeah, he does deserve this. This impossible duo getting him off can be the cherry on top of this season. He pulls the new Charles in by the back of his neck and kisses him with an open mouth, trying to communicate how fucking hot this is without having to speak.

This new Charles seems to agree; he kisses back with just as much fervor as Lewis gives him, no hesitation, biting his lip for good measure when he draws away. He does it at the same time the other Charles puts his mouth on his cock again, and the mix of the two sensations makes Lewis whine. He thinks he hears one of them chuckle, but he can’t be sure, his heart is beating too loud in his ears. The Charles on his dick is sucking just on the head, licking in steady circles as his hand strokes up the rest of his length. It’s too good, he’s going to— If Charles doesn’t stop he’ll—

Charles pulls off just before it’s too late. Lewis can feel his cock throbbing, desperate to come, he’ll be leaking pre everywhere, he just knows it, but Charles just holds him firmly at the base. The other Charles is distracting him with more filthy hot kisses and pinches to his nipples that start gentle but are beginning to get a little harder, making him writhe a little despite himself.

“Not yet,” Charles says against his lips. They both seem to know exactly how far they could push him without sending him over the edge. It feels unfair, but Lewis doesn’t complain. He’s too busy watching as the Charles who had been kissing him sits back on his heels and runs his hand posessively over the other’s shoulder and neck. The other Charles leans into the touch but he still keeps his eyes on Lewis’s. He keeps looking even as his counterpart pulls him upright to kiss under his jaw and his eyes narrow to slits.

Part of Lewis says that this is wrong, very wrong, and that he’s wrong for liking it. Another, much louder part of him is riveted by how the two of them move together, mirror images that have somehow reached through the glass and intertwined. He’s barely breathing, terrified of missing a second of it. Charles is finally letting go of his cock and closing his eyes, reaching up to twist his fingers into the other Charles’s hair. The newer Charles kisses in bursts of aggression, almost combative, his teeth flashing. They sway back and forth above Lewis, the first Charles answering in long, slow exchanges of tongue. If they weren’t cheating out towards him he would almost think they had forgotten him. And that wouldn’t be as good of a dream, would it?

He blinks and they’re both naked. It’s disconcerting, but it also means that Lewis gets to watch as the second Charles beings to stroke the first one’s cock with a practiced, lazy rhythm that makes Lewis envious. He wants so badly to touch. Charles must have been getting off just going down on him, because the head of his own cock is flushed a deep pink, slipping through the others’ fingers again and again. It mashes some buttons deep down in his brain, the idea that Charles, hell _anyone_ would be driven so crazy just by the virtue of sucking his dick.

Charles must have already been close too, because he’s fucking up into the other Charles’s fist and grasping at his shoulders for leverage. Lewis can almost feel the desperation pouring off of him. He has to stroke himself a few times in sympathy. They’re still kissing, but the one on edge is breathing hard now, drawing in gasps before the other one can steal them with another vicious kiss. There’s a long moment of tension where the only sound is ragged breathing and skin-on-skin. Then Charles yelps like he’s been burned and comes in several hot bursts against his own stomach.

The come dripping off his skin is framed perfectly between the two of them. Something surprising and nasty inside Lewis’s mind tells him to taste it, but the other Charles beats him to it. It feels even more unreal than the rest of it, watching Charles lick come off what appears to be his own stomach. His tongue leaves behind a shiny wet trail when he pulls away. He looks back towards Lewis, seemingly ready to acknowledge him again now that the Charles above him is panting and red, totally spent. He leans forward in one fluid movement and kisses Lewis again, passing on the bitter, salty taste. It should be gross but Lewis moans without thinking and presses back into his mouth eagerly.

He grasps firmly Lewis by the shoulders and pulls him forward, rearranging them so Lewis can lean over him on the bed. He’s on his back now, between Lewis’s legs where the other one used to be, propped up on his forearms. He’s looking up at Lewis’s face with a look of innocence that’s undercut by the quirk of his dark eyebrow. “Fuck me,” he says, and, honestly, who could say no to that?

The other one, having composed himself somewhat, slots in behind him and kisses his ear. “Yeah, fuck me,” he echoes, rolling his hips against Lewis’s ass. Charles’s weight above him is steady, pushing him forward towards the Charles below him. “Why don’t you give him what he wants?” the one behind him asks. Despite the fact that should be his own fantasy, there’s something about the way they act, Charles, this one, both of them, like they’re sharing some kind of joke that he’s not in on. He does his best to shake the feeling and instead reaches down to knead one of Charles’s asscheeks in his hand. Charles arches his back up off the bed a little. Distractedly, Lewis notices that the bed doesn’t sink around him, like he doesn’t weigh anything at all. But he’s solid under Lewis’s hands, his ass pushed back into Lewis’s fingers.

“Should I get lube?” Lewis wonders aloud, but the Charles draped over him just laughs a little in his ear and reaches past him. His fingers sink into Charles’s ass with ease, two at once.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” the Charles below him intones, like this is what he’s been waiting for the whole time.

“He’s always ready to get fucked,” the voice in his ear says, and Lewis _knows_ that this isn’t how any of this works but who the fuck is he to argue. He replaces Charles’s fingers with three of his own, moans out loud at how hot and slick Charles is around him.

“God, that’s so hot, you’re fucking unreal, you’re—” He stops rambling when he presses the head of his cock inside. It’s too good, all hot and velvet-soft and he has to take a deep breath before he can even think about moving. Charles is already rocking back on him with what little leverage he has against the mattress. His eyes are closed, eyebrows knitted, mouth screwed up into a pout. Bits of hair are sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“Don’t stop now,” he groans. The one behind him punctuates it with a nip to Lewis’s shoulder and a shove of his hips, pushing Lewis a little deeper. His world narrows to the feeling of Charles on his cock. He’s had a lot of good fucks in his life, but at the moment he doesn’t think anything could compare to this. It’s a damn shame that he will have to wake up at some point.

He’s still dangerously close to coming, but there’s really no point in drawing this out anymore if it’s liable to end at any time. He thrusts in fully, hissing at how Charles clenches down on him in response. Charles digs his fingers into Lewis’s sides, pulling him closer, as if it were possible. His nails are surprisingly sharp, a bracing contrast to the overwhelming sweet pleasure of his ass. Lewis thinks about how he would be covered in bite marks and scratches tomorrow if this were real: a PR nightmare. He gives into it like he would never usually let himself, rolls his neck forward to give Charles a better angle to suck at it from behind.

He sets up a steady rhythm fucking into Charles, reveling in the loud moans it brings out of him. Lewis wants to press his thighs up to his chest to thrust in deeper but there’s no space, trapped between the two of them, the one behind him urging him onwards with a stream of filthy things whispered into his ear, _deeper, yeah, want to fill him up with your come, I know you want to._ And yeah, he wants to.

“You’re so good, so good,” he repeats, the only thought he can put together.

Charles rakes his nails across Lewis’s chest. “Do it,” he says, and there’s something wild in his eyes, just on the far side of desperation, but Lewis is too far gone to read into it. He grabs Charles’s wrists and pins them to the bed on either side of him, uses the grip for leverage as his thrusts get erratic.

The other Charles manages to get out from behind him lightning-quick, and then he’s back kissing his mirror-image, swallowing the hissing noises he’s making. He gets a hand around the dick that’s been bouncing against his stomach in time with Lewis’s thrusts. And oh, Lewis can feel that he likes that, feels him get even tighter, as if that were even possible. He’s been way too far gone for too long. Charles is wrapping his legs around him, keeping him close. He pushes all the way in and stays there, grinding in as deep as he can when he comes. It feels like part of his soul is leaving his body, but it’s okay because the euphoria is running through his limbs like lightning.

Charles, looking up from under him, smiles wide. He’s still, the moans silenced. When he blinks his eyes are all black, swallowed up in glassy darkness. Lewis chokes. The other one looks up at him too, and Lewis thinks he sees a flicker of inky obsidian, but then it’s gone. Just hard blue, as empty as human eyes could be.

All his doors are still locked when he wakes up. Fragments, images of Charles on his cock come back to him more vivid than any other dream he can remember. It isn’t until he’s about to step into the shower that he notices the long red scratches down his sides and the dark bruise high on his neck.

⁂

He’s never been a good sleeper. Adulthood has been a string of late nights staring up at the ceiling and waiting for sleep to accidentally stumble onto him and take pity. He thinks he feels it coming on now. It’s about time, gone three in the morning. But he only closes his eyes for what feels like a second, and then he’s wide awake again. Great.

It’s only when he sits up to adjust the blanket that he spots the figure by the foot of the bed.

“Hello, Max,” it says, and steps closer through the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://www.redpaint.tumblr.com)
> 
> no ragrets
> 
> title from I Can't Say No (To You) by VAST


End file.
